


Imagination

by tinzelda



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinzelda/pseuds/tinzelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch brings Starsky home to meet the parents (but it's a first-time fic).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imagination

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday fic! Happy Birthday to pharis, a dear friend who not only introduced me to the untold joys of fanfic but also overcame my skepticism and taught me to appreciate Hutch's big gun and Starsky's spectacularly tight jeans. I love you, you devil woman!

“What time you gotta be at the airport on Friday?” Starsky asked, his mouth still half full of Kung-Pao chicken.

“You mean what time do _we_ need to be at the airport,” Hutch answered.

Starsky plastered a smile on his face. “That’s what I meant. You and what’s-her-name.”

“You mean Amanda?”

“Yeah, Amanda.” Starsky hadn’t forgotten her name, but he couldn’t resist using every chance he got to hint how he felt about her. Hutch never seemed to notice the little things Starsky said. He seemed too besotted with this new girl, but Starsky figured eventually he’d wise up, and then she’d be out of their hair.

“She’s not coming with me.”

The tone was so casual Starsky didn’t realize for a minute what Hutch had said.

“Not coming?” Starsky felt a surge of annoyance. It was just like this girl to let Hutch down. They had planned this trip for weeks, and now she backed out at the last minute? This must be important to Hutch—his grandfather’s eightieth birthday. Important enough to get him to make a rare trip home, but Amanda had no idea what mattered to Hutch. Starsky had a few opinions about that, but all he said was, “Huh.”

Hutch set down his fork and pushed his plate away. “So can you be ready by six? I know it’s early, but there isn’t another flight until the evening, so if we miss the plane we’re really out of luck.”

“Yeah, sure,” Starsky answered. “I’ll be there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

“And pack something nice for the party, would you? Doesn’t have to be a suit, but not these old things,” Hutch said, reaching under the table and giving Starsky’s denim-clad leg a little pat.

“What?” Starsky asked. “Wait, you mean you want me to go with you?”

Hutch looked surprised. “Of course,” he said. He had obviously assumed Starsky would understand without a formal invitation.

Starsky imagined meeting Hutch’s family and seeing where he grew up. He imagined having Hutch’s undivided attention for an entire weekend, no case to worry about, no Amanda getting in the way. Starsky’s face broke into a huge grin. “It’s about time you introduced your better half to your family.”

Hutch smirked and gave Starsky’s thigh another pat.

*****

Starsky was right on time to pick Hutch up on Friday morning, but traffic was a nightmare. They ended up running through the terminal, slipping into the plane just before the doors closed. Starsky tossed his bag into the overhead bin and then reached for Hutch’s. Hutch took the window seat, and Starsky collapsed beside him.

After Starsky had dropped Hutch off at home the night before, he had gone to get a haircut and then had packed carefully, bringing a suit even though Hutch had said it wasn’t absolutely necessary. He had also picked out his nicest jeans for the trip, not wanting to dress up too obviously but not wanting to look like a slob when he met Hutch’s parents either. With the bustle of getting ready and the hectic trip to the airport, Starsky had barely had any time to think. Now that they were settled in their seats and the plane was taxiing out to the runway, Starsky had the leisure to remember he wasn’t all that crazy about flying. He turned and gave Hutch a nervous smile. Hutch seemed to immediately understand what was bothering Starsky and touched his arm.

“I’m OK,” Starsky said.

Hutch nodded and held up the newspaper he had brought. “Want some?”

Starsky shook his head. “I’m gonna get a little shut-eye.”

“Want coffee when the stewardess comes around?”

“No, thanks.”

“All right.” Hutch unfolded the paper and started to read the front page.

“Hey, Hutch?” Starsky said, making sure to keep his tone light.

Hutch just gave a quiet grunt in response, already absorbed in the headlines.

“What excuse did Amanda give? You know, for why she couldn’t come.”

Hutch turned to look at Starsky, frowning slightly. “Starsky, I’m the one who said she couldn’t come. I broke it off with her.”

Starsky felt his mouth fall open and snapped it shut. “Really?”

“Yes.” Hutch looked back at his paper. “Really.”

“Gosh, Hutch, I’m sorry to hear it.”

“No, you’re not. I know you never liked her.”

“I never said that,” Starsky said carefully.

“You didn’t have to. Look, the other day I realized she’s not someone I want to take home to meet my parents, and if she isn’t, then what am I doing with her?”

Starsky shrugged, trying to keep his face from showing how relieved he was. “I figured you were just having fun.”

“She wasn’t all that fun.”

“You seemed pretty happy,” Starsky pointed out. He didn’t know why he was pushing Hutch about this. He ought to just accept that it was over with Amanda and be happy about it. But part of him wanted to understand why Hutch had changed his mind so suddenly. A week ago he was mooning over this girl, and now she wasn’t good enough?

Hutch shrugged. “She was beautiful, and she was intelligent. And great in bed.”

Starsky tried not to wince. That was something he definitely didn’t want to imagine.

“One night we were out with a few other couples,” Hutch continued. “It was a wonderful meal, a beautiful restaurant. Amanda was looking gorgeous, and I even liked her friends, but I found myself wishing I was with you at Huggy’s, with a beer and a lousy burger. I figured that wasn’t a good sign, so I dumped her.”

_Not a good sign?_ Starsky thought. _It’s a great sign. The best sign ever._ But it still didn’t make sense. Hutch had forgiven Amanda several times for brushing off their plans or showing up late for dates, for not returning phone calls, for a million little things. But then in the middle of what sounded like a great evening, he decided to give her the boot? Starsky looked over at Hutch, but Hutch seemed to be perfectly at ease, engrossed in his reading. No indication that he was hiding anything or lying.

Feeling silly, Starsky shook his head. He was imagining things. There was no deep dark secret here. The girl was bad news, and Hutch had finally realized it. That was all there was to it. Starsky settled himself into his seat more comfortably and closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he savored the warmth of Hutch’s shoulder and arm pressed against his own.

*****

As they walked toward the rental car, Hutch handed Starsky the keys without a word. Starsky grinned and unlocked the trunk so they could toss in their bags. It was a smaller car than either of them was used to, and Starsky laughed when he saw Hutch try to fold his long legs into the passenger seat. Hutch reached down to press the lever to the side, and the seat slid back an inch or two, but it wasn’t enough to make him comfortable.

“Think we could get something bigger?” Starsky asked. “Or you trying to save on gas?”

“This is fine,” Hutch insisted. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not all that long a drive.”

Starsky eyed Hutch’s knees where they pressed against the dashboard. “OK. If you’re sure.”

He started the engine, and it had a deeper rumble than he’d expected. Not bad for an economy car. Hutch turned in his seat slightly so that his legs were at an angle and therefore not so tightly wedged. His knee brushed Starsky’s thigh. Then he put his arm up along the back of the seat. He often rode that way, but in this smaller car, it meant that Hutch’s arm was resting along Starsky’s shoulder, his hand right near Starsky’s neck. Starsky tried to ignore it as he pulled out of the parking space.

Navigating the highway away from the airport, Starsky peeked over at Hutch from time to time. Hutch wasn’t exactly smiling, but he looked content, relaxed. Starsky wished he felt the same way, but for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he was nervous.

Starsky cleared his throat. “So your grandpa is eighty, huh?”

“Yes,” Hutch answered. “Last Tuesday.”

“That’s gotta make you happy.”

“It’s certainly better than the alternative.”

Starsky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course. But I meant it’s good for you, too.”

“How do you figure?”

“Means you got good genes. He’s eighty and still goin’ strong. That means you must have another fifty years in you too.”

“Maybe more. My grandfather smoked a pipe all his life, and he never met a bottle he didn’t like. Not to mention his diet.”

Starsky grinned. “So with all your clean livin’, you could make it to a hundred.”

“Could be.”

“Guess I’d better clean up my act then, huh? So I can be right there with you.”

Hutch was distracted and didn’t seen to hear what Starsky had said. Hutch pointed at a fork in the road. “Turn right up there. That road takes us straight into town.”

Starsky followed Hutch’s directions and in a few moments saw the farms beside the road turn into yards and storefronts.

“Look, Starsk. That blue house? That’s where my first girlfriend lived.”

“Really? What was her name.”

“Mary Jo. I wonder what ever happened to her.”

“Probably died of a broken heart.”

“Not likely. She dumped me.”

“What!” Starsky exclaimed, playing at outrage. “Why?”

“She caught me flirting with her best friend.”

“Some things never change.”

Hutch pointed his finger at a building out Starsky’s window, blocking Starsky’s view in the process.

“Hey! Watch it! I’m driving here.”

Hutch pulled his hand back. “Sorry. I wanted you to see the hardware store where I used to work after school.”

It was too late to see the front of the store, but Starsky glanced in the side mirror and caught the sign, which hung from a pole sticking out from the building: Clement Hardware. It was a hand-painted wooden sign with gold letters. The whole main street was full of quaint touches like that. They drove past a barber shop where a man was sweeping the front steps, and Starsky noticed how clean everything looked. There was no litter on the sidewalks or cigarette butts at the side of the road. He had never seen anything like it, at least not outside of a movie. So picturesque. Wholesome. Starsky tried to imagine Hutch coming from this and seeing the streets of Bay City for the first time. The urban sprawl must have seemed so ugly.

“Look, Starsky. The diner. Let’s get something to eat.”

“But you said your folks’ house is just a few minutes from town.”

“I don’t want to show up hungry.” Hutch said. “They shouldn’t have to feed us the second we walk in the door.”

At first Starsky thought Hutch must be joking. If Starsky showed up at his mother’s door and said he wasn’t hungry, she would be calling a doctor. Then Hutch pointed out a parking spot along the curb, and Starsky figured he must really mean it. Starsky backed neatly into the space and followed Hutch into the brightly lit restaurant. Hutch surprised Starsky by ordering meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

“I might be wrong,” Starsky teased. “But I do believe meatloaf just might have red meat in it. And gravy?”

Hutch shot a sideways look at Starsky. “It’s not like there’s a lot of choices. Besides, the meatloaf here was always my favorite.”

Starsky looked at the woman cooking behind he counter and wondered if he could charm her into giving up her meatloaf recipe.

*****

“How about I drive?”

“Sure,” Starsky said, tossing Hutch the keys.

Once Hutch was busy driving, Starsky could watch him without worrying about getting caught. Hutch still looked relaxed, almost happy. Driving with only one hand, he had his other arm out the open window, letting his hand ride along the air current. He really seemed glad to be home, but if that was true, why had it been so long since he had visited? Thinking about that made Starsky think again about how strange it was that Hutch wanted to eat in town just before getting home. Hutch seemed had worried about inconveniencing someone, but a person shouldn’t have to worry about being a bother to his own parents, should he? Maybe Hutch didn’t really get along with his family.

Starsky decided he should stop speculating and just ask. “Hey, Hutch?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you glad to be here?”

“I suppose so.”

“It’s been a long time since you came home.”

“I guess.”

“More than two years.”

Hutch glanced over. “You’re keeping track?”

Starsky shrugged. “It’s just that you don’t talk with your folks very much.”

“I talk with my mother at least once a month.”

“Once a month! I can’t imagine the bawling out I’d get if I didn’t call Ma for a whole month.”

A smile flitted across Hutch’s face. “You’re just closer to your mother, Starsky.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“And you’re better at that kind of thing.”

Starsky looked at Hutch, not sure where this was going. “What kind of thing?”

They passed a large brick building, and Hutch smiled. “Look, Starsk.”

Starsky could tell Hutch was trying to change the subject, but he didn’t mind. He looked out the window. “Your high school?”

Hutch nodded.

Starsky imagined what Hutch must have been like back then. He had probably been the kind of kid Starsky had hated in high school: tall, handsome, popular. A goody two-shoes too, Starsky was sure. The kind of guy Starsky and his friends had ridiculed. Starsky sighed. High school kids were so stupid.

*****

Starsky knew that Hutch’s family was pretty well off, and he had pictured their house as some kind of mansion. So when Hutch turned into a gravel drive with painted brick columns on either side, Starsky prepared himself to see something really impressive. But the house was just a regular house, large, but nothing remarkable. Looking at it as he climbed out of the car, Starsky couldn’t really imagine Hutch growing up there.

Hutch took both of their suitcases out of the trunk and carried them up to the door. Starsky felt butterflies in his stomach, and he suddenly realized that this was what had been making him anxious: meeting Hutch’s parents.

Hutch rang the doorbell, which made Starsky think. Would Hutch’s parents really be bothered if he just walked right in? It used to be his house too.

Hutch’s mother answered the door. Hutch put his hand on the small of Starsky’s back and pushed him forward a little. “Mom, this is David. David Starsky, my partner.”

Hutch’s mom was petite and slightly plump. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose bun. As she smiled in greeting, she reached up to smooth back a few stray wisps of hair with one hand. Starsky reached out, and she clasped his hand in both of hers and squeezed gently.

“David, it’s so lovely to meet you. Ken has told us so much about you,” she said, still holding Starsky’s hand. “You take such good care of him. Knowing you’re there to keep him safe, we don’t worry about him half as much as we would if—Oh, Robert, come meet David.”

Starsky looked up and saw Hutch’s dad coming down the stairs. He was almost as tall as Hutch and looked very much like him, but his hair was short in an almost military cut, and it was iron gray. He shook Starsky’s hand briskly. “Nice to meet you, son.”

“Good to meet you, sir.”

The Hutchinsons were polite and gracious, and it would have warmed Starsky’s heart if they hadn’t greeted Hutch in almost the exact same way. The only difference was that with Hutch, Mrs. Hutchinson leaned in and tilted her head, and Hutch kissed her cheek. It all just seemed so strange to Starsky. His own mother practically knocked him over with the first hug of a visit and then couldn’t seem to stop fussing over him, running her hand over his hair, cupping his cheek in her palm. He didn’t understand the Hutchinsons’ reception of Hutch at all, but Hutch was smiling.

“How was the flight?” Mr. Hutchinson asked.

“Fine, Dad. Thanks,” Hutch answered.

“You must both be tired,” Mrs. Hutchinson said. “First the airplane? Then you had to drive all the way up here? Why don’t you go upstairs and settle in. Your sister will be here soon, but dinner isn’t until six. You can just relax until then.”

“Thank you, Mom.” Hutch walked to the foot of the steps.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear, but you two will have to share your room. Julia and the kids will be in her room, and Aunt Sharon will be in the guest room. We’re really hoping Christine can make it, so I want to save the fold-out couch in the den for her.”

Hutch turned to smile at his mother. “Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

Mrs. Hutchinson turned to Starsky, frowning slightly. “I hope it’s not too inconvenient for you, David dear.”

“No, ma’am. It’s not a problem. Hutch and I are used to bunking together.” After Starsky spoke, he worried that it sounded funny, but no one seemed to take any notice.

Starsky had looked forward to seeing Hutch’s boyhood room, but it wasn’t as interesting as he’d imagined. The only picture was a family portrait, but it was taken when Hutch was old enough to look completely like himself. Starsky had been hoping for a second grade class picture or Hutch’s baby pictures. Any mementos or toys Hutch had left behind must have gotten packed away. The room was cheerful enough, with striped wallpaper and a blue quilt on the bed.

Hutch wanted a shower, so after Starsky hung his suit up in the closet, he flopped down on the bed to wait. He didn’t want to go back downstairs on his own. Hutch was quick in the bathroom, and he emerged already dressed, throwing himself on the bed next to Starsky.

“What do you want to do?” Hutch asked.

Starsky shrugged and looked over at Hutch. Seeing those blue eyes just a foot away from him made Starsky jumpy. He turned his head to look at the ceiling again. “You could give me the grand tour.”

“There’s not all that much to see, but I’ll show you around if you want.”

Starsky jumped up off the bed, and Hutch followed him more slowly. Hutch stuck his head in his sister’s room, which was yellow and frilly, and pointed out his parents’ door and the guest room. Then on the main level there was a formal living room, a dining room, a large kitchen, and the den, which also served as an office for Hutch’s father. Then Hutch opened another door, and Starsky saw steps.

“You’re showing me the basement?”

“It’s partially finished.”

At the bottom of the stairs they entered a large room with wood paneling and a checkerboard floor. There was a pool table, a couch, and an old television, the kind set in a large wooden cabinet.

“Hutch! You never told me your parents have a rumpus room!”

“A rumpus room?”

“Yeah, I always wanted one! You can hang out with your friends without your folks around.”

“We always just called it the rec room,” Hutch said with his eyebrows raised.

Starsky smiled. “Yeah, what is a rumpus anyway? I guess it must be like ‘rec.’ Some kind of recreational activity, right? That’s why I always wanted a room like this. You can get a lot more recreational without your parents around. Wanna play a few rounds of pool?”

*****

Mrs. Hutchinson’s plans for the evening were disturbed by a phone call from Hutch’s sister. Her plane was delayed, and everyone agreed dinner should be held until she arrived with her two children. While they waited, Mr. Hutchinson served cocktails, and they all sat stiffly in the living room, Hutch’s parents showing the same polite interest in Starsky that they did in Hutch, which annoyed Starsky. He wouldn’t have thought it was rude if they talked to Hutch more and asked him more questions. It was natural that they would be more interested in their son. Starsky would have thought it was all for his benefit—being polite, putting on a show for company—if Hutch weren’t so obviously unsurprised by his parents’ behavior.

Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson were lovely people, the perfect polite hosts, but shouldn’t it go deeper than that with Hutch? When Starsky had worried that Hutch didn’t get along with his family, he had imagined all kinds of reasons why. They might not like that he had moved to California, or that he was a cop, or that he was divorced. But the truth was so much simpler than that. Starsky thought Hutch’s parents were just too polite to be really close to anybody. Starsky thought about Hutch growing up in this house and realized it was surprising that Hutch had turned out to be such an interesting and passionate person. With parents like that, it couldn’t have been easy.

When Julia and the kids finally arrived, they were tired, hungry, and grouchy, so everyone rushed through dinner. Hoping to get to know Jennifer and Robbie a little bit, Starsky offered to bring out the board games he had seen downstairs earlier, but their mother bustled them off for baths and bedtime almost as soon as the plates were cleared. Hutch’s dad disappeared into his den, and Hutch’s mother tried to make small talk, but it was obvious she would rather be working on final preparations for the big party the next afternoon. Starsky saw a chance to have Hutch all to himself. While Mrs. Hutchinson was jotting reminders to herself on a notepad, Starsky leaned over to whisper in Hutch’s ear.

“Wanna go downstairs and rumpus?”

*****

When Starsky woke up he felt perfect. Perfectly cozy in that way that’s as warm as you can get without crossing over into too hot. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay in his perfect, cozy cocoon, but his nose started itching, and he reached up to rub the itch away. That’s when he realized why he was so cozy. He was snuggled right up against Hutch’s back.

Starsky was afraid he had scooted over during the night, but he slid one foot back until it touched the edge of the mattress. It was close. He had stayed on his side of the bed. It was Hutch who had scooted. Starsky smiled and closed his eyes. Perfect.

But then Hutch cleared his throat, startling Starsky. He had thought Hutch was still asleep.

Hutch whispered, “You always were a bed hog.”

“Not me,” Starsky answered. “Look around you, partner. _You_ are on _my_ side.”

Hutch lifted his head and looked up at the headboard and then over his shoulder at Starsky. “Hm.” Hutch’s head dropped back onto the pillow. “You don’t really mind, do you?”

“Nope.” Starsky flung his arm over Hutch and gave a squeeze. He had intended it to be quick, just kidding around, but feeling Hutch that close made Starsky have to concentrate just to breathe right, and before he realized it, several minutes had passed, and neither of them had moved. Starsky tried to think of something to say, something that would pass this off as a joke.

A knock at the door made both of them jump.

Starsky yanked his arm back, rolled away, and almost fell out of the bed onto his ass. As he recovered, Hutch calmly called out, “Yes?”

Mrs. Hutchinson’s voice came muffled through the door. “Julia’s making pancakes if you boys are interested.”

“Thank you, Mom. We’ll be down in a few minutes.” Hutch shifted on the bed to look at Starsky, who was scrambling into clothes as quickly as he could.

“Pancakes!” Starsky said with all the enthusiasm he could muster. “That sounds good! Doesn’t that sound good?” He pulled a T-shirt on over his head. “I’m starving. How about you? You hungry? I haven’t had pancakes in ages.”

“You had them just the other day,” Hutch pointed out. “When we came off that stakeout at the crack of dawn.”

“Did I? I forgot about that.” Starsky fumbled with his belt buckle. “I’m not sure that counts. They weren’t homemade. Nothing as good as homemade pancakes.” Finally finished dressing, Starsky clapped his hands together. “You coming?”

Hutch watched Starsky from under raised eyebrows, clearly amused. “Yes, I’m coming. I’d like to put some clothes on first.” He threw off the covers.

“Oh! Of course.” Starsky strode to the door. After being so close to Hutch, so warm and comfortable next to him, Starsky didn’t think he could stay in the room and watch him get dressed. “You take your time. I’ll go ahead. I’ll see you down there. I’ll save you some pancakes. And bacon. I think I smell bacon.” Once Starsky was out in the hall, he closed the door and leaned against it, his forehead pressing into the wood. He sighed, then turned and headed for the stairs.

*****

After breakfast, Mrs. Hutchinson asked if they’d mind going out to the farm early to help set up and oversee the caterers. “You don’t mind, do you, Kenny? I’ve got so many things to take care of here before I can leave, and you know your grandfather. He’ll be doing everything himself, and then he’ll be too tired to enjoy his party.”

When Mrs. Hutchinson first said that the party was going to be in a barn, Starsky almost laughed. His idea of a barn was somewhere between Little House on the Prairie and Old MacDonald, but the barn at the farm was a huge, brand new building, clean and airy. There were strings of Christmas lights hanging from the rafters, and once he and Hutch started getting the tables set up near the makeshift dance floor and the caterers started putting out tablecloths, Starsky could see how nice it would be when everything was ready. It was going to be a pretty big deal, with food and music and dancing. It sounded like almost the whole town was coming. It might actually be fun.

Starsky enjoyed working with Hutch to get everything ready for the party. He never doubted that they worked well together, but it was nice to be accomplishing something in a situation that wasn’t life or death. Starsky could tell Hutch was enjoying himself too, so much so that he was whistling.

“Is that the black bean soup thing again? You’ve gotta get another song, Kenny. You’re killing me.”

“Stop calling me Kenny,” Hutch said, slamming the tailgate of the truck closed. “You’ve been calling me that every chance you can get since breakfast.” Hutch made a great effort to sound annoyed, but Starsky could tell it was faked because he started the song again, this time singing the words. Starsky didn’t think he’d ever seen Hutch so cheerful. They picked up the last table and carried it into the barn.

Starsky felt sweat trickle down his back. He was a mess, and it was getting late. “Isn’t it about time we get cleaned up?”

Hutch set his end of the table down then reached for Starsky’s left arm to look at his watch. “Yeah, let’s get this last one set up and then go inside.”

They pulled out the legs of the table and lifted it upright and then stood back to survey their work. Hutch shifted a few of the tables around so that it wasn’t too crowded. Then he turned, resting one hand on Starsky’s belly.

“You want to shower first?”

“Sure,” Starsky choked out. “Thanks.” He wanted to put his own hand over Hutch’s and hold it, keeping him there. He loved it when Hutch touched him like that. It was a casual touch, affectionate but thoughtless. The intimacy of it was what got to Starsky. Hutch didn’t touch anyone else like that. Starsky imagined a puppy, laying on its back and wriggling, begging for a belly rub. Shameless. At least he hadn’t gotten that bad, not yet.

*****

“May I have this dance?” Starsky asked.

Jennifer smiled and jumped out of her seat, running to the dance floor ahead of Starsky. He tried to teach her some actual dance steps, and she was an enthusiastic learner, her little face scrunched up as she concentrated. But Starsky realized it wasn’t all that much fun for her, so when a new song came on he twirled her around and tried to make her smile.

They danced through another song, and as it ended, Starsky looked over and saw Hutch watching them. There was a hint of a smile on Hutch’s face, but Starsky couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He took Jennifer’s hand and led her back to her mother.

As soon as they reached the table, Robbie grabbed Starsky’s hand. “Me too!” he almost shouted. “My turn!”

“OK, your turn,” Starsky agreed.

But Jennifer jumped in front of her brother. “No, Robbie, a boy can’t dance with a boy,” she told him.

Starsky looked down at Robbie, whose bottom lip was starting to quiver.

Julia put her hand on Robbie’s head and gave Jennifer a pointed look. “Jenny, don’t tell him that. Let him have his turn.”

Robbie no longer looked ready to cry, but he wasn’t smiling again either.

“C’mon, Robbie. Let’s go,” Starsky urged, but Robbie frowned and looked at the floor. Starsky crouched down. “It’s OK. Ask Uncle Kenny.”

Hutch shot Starsky a look about the choice of nickname, but he got down on one knee to speak to Robbie. “You should go, buddy. You’ll have fun.”

“It’s OK?” Robbie expression turned hopeful. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Hutch said.

Smiling, Robbie turned to Starsky and took his hand, pulling him over to the dance floor. Starsky twirled Robbie around until he was afraid the kid might fall over from dizziness, then picked him up and spun and jumped some more. Robbie giggled madly throughout the entire song.

When Robbie led Starsky back to the table, Jennifer was standing there, bouncing with excitement. “My turn again!” she chirped, but Starsky was ready for some real dancing.

“I’m sorry, madam, but there’s already a name on my dance card.” Starsky glanced at Hutch and then held out his hand to Julia. She laughed, but she stood up and put her hand in his.

As they settled into an easy rhythm among the other couples, Julia smiled. “Thanks for your help with the kids,” she said.

“What do you mean? I haven’t done anything.”

“Dancing with them, and all through dinner you were joking around with them. It kept them busy so I finally had a chance to catch up with my cousin. I only see Christine once a year or so.”

Starsky gave her his best lady-killer smile. “It’s my pleasure. I like kids. Plus, if it gets me in good with their beautiful mother…” Starsky shrugged.

Julia chuckled. “You sure are a charmer,” she said, shaking her head.

“I do my best,” Starsky answered, studying her face to find any resemblance to Hutch.

“But I bet you’re a real softy under all that swagger. A hopeless romantic.” She looked at him from under her lashes.

Starsky smiled at her. Her eyes were the exact same blue as Hutch’s, and her hair was just a shade darker. “Guilty as charged,” he said and lowered her into a dip.

“So is there a girl back home who gets to enjoy all of this romancing? Ken makes it sound like you do nothing but work.”

Starsky smiled and opened his mouth to answer, but then he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and his shoulder thumped into something solid. Hutch.

“May I cut in?” Hutch asked.

“We barely got started,” Starsky protested, but he reached out to place Julia’s hand into Hutch’s. “Did Jennifer send you? She still want another turn?”

Hutch didn’t let go of Starsky’s hand. Instead he let Julia’s hand fall and pulled Starsky into his arms.

Julia laughed. “Can’t you two be serious for even a second?”

Starsky grinned, but his eyes shifted to the other dancers. The few who were paying attention were smiling, seeing Hutch goofing around, but Starsky felt uncomfortable. He could see Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson dancing just a couple of yards away.

“Hutch,” he said, pulling away slightly. “What’re ya doin’?”

“What’s wrong, Starsk? I thought we already established that a boy can dance with another boy.”

This got another laugh from Julia, and she squeezed Starsky’s shoulder and started back toward their table.

Starsky forced himself into their usual shtick, extending one hand and setting the other on Hutch’s waist, the classic ballroom pose. “C’mon, babe. If you’re gonna dance with me you gotta keep up.”

Hutch let himself be pulled into a turn, but he was watching Starsky closely. “You were flirting with my sister.”

“She’s a beautiful lady.”

“She’s a beautiful _married_ lady,” Hutch said.

“Hey, a married woman is the best kind of woman to flirt with.”

“And why’s that?”

“No expectations.”

“Interesting,” Hutch said thoughtfully. “So when you flirt, you don’t intend to raise expectations?”

Starsky stopped dancing and stared. Hutch looked right back at Starsky, his expression serious.

“Hutch—” Starsky began, but he was interrupted by a smattering of applause. They turned and saw two waiters carrying in a huge sheet cake with what looked like the full complement of eighty candles. Everyone drifted over toward the cake. Starsky turned back to Hutch, who gave Starsky a look—difficult to read—and then walked over to stand behind his grandfather.

_Was Hutch saying—? Naw, it must have been my imagination._

*****

“Feels good to get out of the monkey suit,” Starsky said as he joined Hutch on the back steps of the farmhouse.

Hutch handed Starsky a beer and said, “Hey, I thought you looked great in that monkey suit.”

Starsky smiled, but didn’t take the compliment to heart. “Where is everybody?”

Hutch took a long swallow from his beer. “My mom and dad are keeping an eye on the caterers cleaning up, Julia took the kids back to the house, and Grandpa’s sleeping in his chair.”

“Huh,” Starsky said. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I’ve officially fulfilled my familial duties, so we can do whatever we want. Would you like to see more of the farm?”

“I guess so.”

They left their half-empty bottles there on the porch, and Hutch led Starsky away from the house, past the barn where the party had been. Then they started walking around the edge of a field of low, leafy plants Starsky didn’t recognize.

“Where are we going?” Starsky asked, wishing he’d brought his sunglasses. They were walking straight into the setting sun, and squinting against the glare was going to give him a headache.

“You’ll see.” Hutch turned and smiled. Starsky realized it didn’t really matter where they were going. He would follow Hutch anywhere for another smile like that. Maybe Hutch really was happy to be home. Starsky wasn’t used to seeing him smile like that.

They passed out of the farm’s fields into a thick band of trees, but Hutch didn’t slow down.

“Is this still your grandfather’s land? We’ve been hiking out here forever.”

“We couldn’t have left the house more than a half hour ago.” Hutch paused to let Starsky catch up. “Look, you can tell where the property line is. His neighbors have cut down all their trees.” Hutch pointed far to the right where the land had been cleared.

“Why?”

“I believe they sold them to a paper company.”

“Oh.” Starsky waited for Hutch to start off on a rant about the damage to the environment, but Hutch was just waiting for Starsky to start moving again, like he’d never given a moment’s thought to the trees. He looked impatient.

“Come on, Starsky. There’s something I want to show you.”

“OK. What?”

“Where I used to go swimming.”

“Can’t we just drive? The bugs are eating me alive.”

“No, it’s out in the woods. It’s a swimming hole.”

“You wanna go swimming?”

“Yes, don’t you?”

“I didn’t bring a suit.”

Hutch snorted. “You don’t need a suit.”

“Skinny dipping?” First hiking and now skinny dipping?

“Sure. It’ll be great,” Hutch insisted in his hearty outdoorsman voice.

Starsky imagined being naked in the water with Hutch and sighed. “Terrific.”

As they hiked, the idea of a swim became more enticing. It wasn’t all that hot, but they were walking briskly, and Starsky imagined a fresh, clear pond shaded by willow trees. Just the thing to cool them off after the long hike. Too bad the swimming hole, when they reached it, didn’t look anything like Starsky had hoped. The surface of the water was dotted with insects and covered at the edges with some kind of scummy growth, and the whole place had an earthy odor that made Starsky think of a damp basement.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Are you kidding? I ain’t going in there.”

“Why not?” Hutch asked as he unbuttoned his shirt. Then he bent to take off his shoes and socks.

“Who knows what’s living in there?” Starsky frowned and shuddered.

“Starsky, there’s nothing in that water that can hurt you.”

“How do you know?” Starsky peered down into the dark green water, sure there must be leeches or eels or something equally disgusting lurking under the surface.

“I’ve been swimming here thousands of times,” Hutch said.

Starsky looked up at Hutch in time to see him drop his briefs on top of his pile of clothes. “Hutch,” he complained and turned away.

“What?”

Starsky didn’t answer.

“Well, it’s been at least fifteen years since I’ve been swimming here, and I’m going in.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Starsky caught a blur of pale limbs moving, then he heard the splash as Hutch plunged into the water.

“Come on, Starsk,” Hutch called out.

Starsky turned to look at Hutch where he was treading water.

“See? Nothing’s got me yet. All safe.”

“Very funny,” Starsky grumbled.

“It’s very refreshing.”

“Refreshing?”

“Yeah,” Hutch answered. He raised his arm and cut his hand into the water, sending a splash in Starsky’s direction.

Starsky yanked his feet back so his sneakers wouldn’t get wet. “Hey, watch it!” He glared down at Hutch, who looked younger somehow, his wet hair plastered to his head. Starsky frowned. “Refreshing, huh? I’ll translate that as ‘freeze-your-ass-off cold.’ No thanks.”

“Come on, Starsky. Just jump right in. It only feels cold for a second.”

“I don’t wanna,” Starsky answered, but after only a second’s hesitation he untied his shoes and pulled them off. He stood up and pulled his T-shirt over his head. He could feel Hutch watching him, which made him self-conscious. He knew it was ridiculous to feel shy in front of Hutch, but he couldn’t help it. Trying not to make it obvious that he was hiding, he turned away slightly as he pulled off his jeans. He thought about leaving his underwear on but decided that would make him feel even more stupid, so he stripped them off too.

Sliding a little on the wet grass, Starsky stepped toward the water. He intended to get in slowly, just to be ornery. But when he noticed Hutch watching him, he felt too naked, too exposed. So he bent his knees and then jumped. The water was deep and very cold. Freezing. Starsky figured maybe it would help him, like a cold shower.

When Starsky resurfaced, Hutch was laughing. It was an open, lighthearted laugh, not a sound that came from Hutch very often, and Starsky felt something loosen in his belly. For several moments they floated in silence.

“You came here a lot when you were a kid?”

“My grandfather used to bring me and my sister here when we were little, and then sometimes in high school I’d bring friends. We’d pack a picnic and drive out to the farm.”

Starsky rolled his eyes. “You grew up in a damn storybook. Picnics at the ole swimming hole?”

Hutch looked sheepish. “There wasn’t all that much for us to do out here. We didn’t have the bright lights of the big city nearby.”

“Skinny dipping sounds like a lot more fun than sneaking around with fake IDs.”

Hutch looked mildly scandalized. “We wore bathing suits.”

“And I guess you never had parties out here either, right? Somebody swiped a bottle from the liquor cabinet? Somebody got their big brother to buy a six-pack?”

Hutch frowned in feigned disapproval. “Oh, no. Never.”

“So maybe things weren’t all that different. You just had a prettier backdrop.”

Starsky leaned his head back to look up at the trees and the darkening sky. The first stars were appearing, and Starsky wondered for a minute how they would get back through the woods now that the sun had gone down, but he didn’t worry. He knew Hutch would know the way.

Hutch’s voice interrupted the quiet. “I lost my virginity here.”

Starsky closed his eyes and groaned. “Jesus, don’t tell me that.” He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, wishing he could push out of his brain the image of a young, gangly, naked Hutch rolling around with some cheerleader on the grassy bank.

“Why not?”

Starsky opened his eyes and looked right at Hutch. “You got no idea, do you?”

Hutch smiled slightly. “Come on, Starsk.”

Starsky stared at Hutch, not sure what was happening.

Hutch angled his head to one side. “I know you.”

Starsky’s couldn’t breathe. “You mean…”

“Starsky, I can’t imagine how it has escaped your notice, but I’ve been throwing myself at you all day.”

“What?”

“I danced with you at my grandfather’s birthday party, for God’s sake! And this morning in bed?”

Starsky’s heart started pounding. “Is that what that was?”

“Starsky!”

“What?”

Hutch looked exasperated. “What are you waiting for?”

Starsky didn’t wait to be asked again. He swam close to Hutch, and even after everything Hutch had said, Starsky was surprised when he didn’t move away. Then Starsky moved even closer, leaning in. But his lips barely brushed Hutch’s. He found himself slipping down. He had forgotten to tread water. Giving a couple of strong kicks, Starsky moved close again, but Hutch started to swim away. Starsky felt his breath catch, afraid that Hutch was _leaving_ , but then Hutch grabbed his arm and started pulling, dragging him over to where the water was shallower.

As soon as his feet touched bottom, Starsky reached out, but Hutch didn’t stop. He tugged Starsky further, until the water only came up to their waists. They found their footing and looked at each other, and Starsky realized that Hutch looked as nervous as he felt. Starsky reached out and grasped Hutch’s shoulder. Then he leaned in and tried again for that kiss he had been imagining for so long.

This time it was perfect. This time it was even better than he’d imagined.

When Starsky had allowed himself to hope that Hutch would let this happen, he hadn’t thought that Hutch would be shy, not exactly. But he never dared to think that Hutch would meet him halfway. So he was surprised to feel Hutch putting a hand on the back of his head to seal their kiss even tighter. Starsky stepped closer, and Hutch came forward to join him. With every move he matched Starsky’s strength and eagerness. Starsky’s heart was racing.

Putting his shaking hands on Hutch’s hips, Starsky pushed his tongue into Hutch’s mouth, and Hutch made a little noise in his throat. Hutch wanted this too. _Thank you, God_ , Starsky thought. In spite of the chill of the water, Starsky could feel himself getting hard.

He kissed Hutch deeply, exploring his mouth, and then pulled away to plant a trail of kisses down the side of Hutch’s neck. He could feel Hutch’s breath hot on his shoulder, and he wanted to see Hutch’s face, to see what he looked like when he was turned on. He leaned back a little, but Hutch pursued him, pressing their mouths together. Starsky kissed back, but he still wanted to _see _, so he pulled away again and rested a hand on Hutch’s chest to hold him in place.__

Starsky had only meant to pause for a moment so that he could get a good look at Hutch, but Hutch’s smooth skin felt so good, Starsky couldn’t resist touching. He skimmed his hand all over Hutch’s chest and shoulders, watching his face. Hutch’s mouth fell open slightly, his breath coming more quickly. He watched Starsky intently, meeting his gaze even when his hand moved downward. When Starsky touched Hutch’s cock, Hutch sucked in a quick breath, his eyes growing wider and then finally closing. Starsky started long, slow strokes, and Hutch’s head fell back. Hutch moaned, rocking his hips into Starsky’s hand. Starsky thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

He pressed his lips to Hutch’s throat. Hutch lifted his head and kissed Starsky but then pulled away quickly to catch his breath. Starsky bent his head down and closed his eyes. He increased the pace of his strokes and heard Hutch gasp. Hutch slid both hands up Starsky’s arms to his shoulders, then around to his back. Leaning close, Hutch whispered Starsky’s name and nipped at his earlobe.

Hutch’s hand moved down Starsky’s back to his ass and squeezed. Possessively. He pulled Starsky’s hips closer. Feeling Hutch’s fingers pressing into his flesh, Starsky couldn’t believe how quickly he was losing control. Hutch drew him even closer, and Starsky had to pull his hand away to keep it from being trapped between them. Hutch started to move, sliding their cocks together, and Starsky realized he wasn’t going to last much longer. He wound his arms around Hutch’s waist and kissed him, moving with him. Starsky could hear Hutch panting. Hutch’s hand tightened even more on his ass, and the feeling was enough to push Starsky over the edge. He came with a shout, and Hutch followed him almost immediately.

Words tumbled around in Starsky’s brain, mushy words, soapy stuff, and he wanted to say it all. He didn’t want to hold anything back. But he couldn’t seem to concentrate enough to form a single coherent syllable. His knees felt weak. Without Hutch’s arms around him and the water buoying him up, he would have fallen over. His forehead was resting on Hutch’s shoulder as they both tried to catch their breath. It had been good, so good. But Starsky had always imagined the way he would make love to Hutch, slowly, giving attention to every part of his beautiful body. Now it was over, and it had been too quick.

“Aw, Hutch, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Hutch let out a breathy laugh. “I’m not sorry. Not one bit.”

“No, not _sorry_ ,” Starsky explained. “It’s just, this isn’t how I wanted it to be. I wanted to make it last. There’s all this stuff I wanted to do. I wanted to—”

Hutch quieted Starsky with a kiss, then said, “It’s all right, babe. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“But—”

“We’ll have time for everything you imagined.” Then Hutch kissed Starsky again, this time slowly, making Starsky think maybe it wouldn’t be all that long before they’d be ready for another try.

“Really?” Starsky asked, running a hand through Hutch’s hair. It was so fine it was already almost dry. “Everything I imagined? Cause I’ve got a pretty good imagination. It could take a while.”

Hutch turned his head into Starsky’s caress. “I’m not going anywhere, Starsk. Remember? I’m going to live to be a hundred.”

The End


End file.
